


voracious

by OkeyDokeyLoki



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Cannibalism, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fat Shaming, Feeding Kink, Food is People, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Possessive Hannibal Lecter, The Author Regrets Nothing, We Die Like Men, Weight Gain, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkeyDokeyLoki/pseuds/OkeyDokeyLoki
Summary: Jack Crawford hasn't slept well in months.Despite getting missing persons reports from Interpol on behalf of European countries, he knows he's earned a visit from some not-so-nice cannibals.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	voracious

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal is perhaps too enthusiastic a feeder, but whatever. Will seems chill with it
> 
> Forgive the french, I don't speak French :P

It had been a long time since Hannibal had received a house guest.

It wasn't as though he was avoiding anyone, now that he had escaped the FBI and extradition back to the States.

"Welcome, Inspector," he spoke as he descended the stairs, which were large, ostentatious things not too far from the ornate front door and hanging hydrangeas.

He didn't know how many inspectors and aspiring trainees had come, trying to prove that he was Il Mostro, that he was the Chesapeake Ripper.

"I do not have a warrant, but I understand that you have some antiques you'd like to sell."

"Come," said Hannibal genially, as charming as ever, and he laid an amiable hand on his back and guided him deeper into the house.

The inspector looked supremely uneasy. "Your home is beautiful, but I think I might like it more with more light. May I ask why it's so dark?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Hannibal, but he didn't answer the question.

He led the inspector into a room that indeed held antiques, but it was still dark.

Hannibal shut the door, and the man smiled weakly. "Light?"

Dr. Lecter obliged, turning on the light for his visitor.

There were some old, valuable pieces of furniture from Lithuania, no doubt.

The inspector momentarily forgot his unease. "Oh, this-" he pointed, "-must have been made in 1932, no?"

"You are correct," Hannibal rumbled.

"Amor?" From the depths of the dark, admittedly warm house, a voice called.

The visitor looked up, pupils dilated a bit with fear. Prey searching for their predator. "Do you have a lover here?"

"Yes, give me one moment."

Hannibal left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The prey returned to the antiques, cooing over some particularly rare pieces that he wasn't sure he could afford.

The predator had removed his shoes, just as he used to with Miriam Lass, and padded into the room, until he was behind the inspector.

Before the inspector was aware of what was happening, Hannibal grabbed his arms, and secured them painfully behind his back.

The man shouted in pain. "You're, you're going to kill me!" he yelled.

"A very astute observation," Hannibal purred, excited. "Would you like to meet my lover?"

"Do I have a choice?" the other man snapped.

Hannibal's maroon eyes flashed in irritation. "The more rude you are, the more it will hurt, Inspector."

The man said nothing.

"Wise. Amor, prêt à rencontrer votre dîner?" (Would you like to meet your dinner?)

"Ouí!" The voice mirrored Hannibal's excitement.

He slapped the light off on his way out, and guided his captive down a hallway, then down stairs into the basement.

Basement- such a negative connotation attached to the word, and misleading in this case.

Hannibal Lecter's basement was lavish, and tastefully decorated, with a little room in the corner that contained all the pipes and creepy parts a basement traditionally has.

He led his captive into a room, where the moonlight entered one of the windows, and fell onto a very pale, plump figure, with hair dark as night.

It made sense why the house was kept warm now; the figure, a male, was entirely naked except for a blanket that was draped haphazardly over him.

Even in warm weather, Hannibal was still dressed to the nines.

"Good evening, Will."

Will was stretched across a stripe of moonlight like a cat. "Hannibal."

"How would you like him cooked, my dear Will?"

"Mm, surprise me."

The inspector fell with a blow to the base of the skull, and Hannibal let him fall as he approached his prize.

Will had blossomed, under his care.

With no lights, he was almost as pale as the moonlight he bathed in.

With such warm temperatures, he didn't have to wear anything (a victory Hannibal was particularly proud of; he had never liked Will's baggy denims and flannel), so all that he had for clothing were togas, suits, and blankets.

Initially, Hannibal had said nothing about their storage capacity for bodies, but Will had been thinking like he had when he was young.

Will had grown up poor, eating everything on his plate and wasting nothing.

No matter how much Hannibal served him, Will ate all of it, even when he was bloated and uncomfortable afterwards.

Eventually, Hannibal began experimenting with it, and when Will still ate everything on his plate, he began to cook more for him, including rich appetizers and decadent desserts.

Will's form could not hold out against the brunt force of Hannibal Lecter's focused efforts, his stomach changing from almost emaciated, to flat, to a modest muffin top, to a small pot belly, to a genuine plush gut.

Within months, he was considerably soft, and his entire body wobbled when he moved.

His warm, heavy gut protruded inches from his frame and was beginning to droop downward in its immensity. It rested comfortably in his lap when he sat, and continued to expand ever outwards, covering more of his delectable thighs.

His thighs were round, his ass supple and thick, and he had love handles that drove Hannibal mad.

Dr. Lecter loved Will's new shape; it felt to him that Will resembled the embodiment of greed.

Tonight, he would have Will feast on their new victim all by himself.

Hannibal enjoyed a kiss with his beautiful prize, hands sinking into the soft, doughy fat that padded his entire body.

"Mm, I think you'll enjoy him. In fact, I'll have a surprise for you."

<><><>

The inspector woke slowly, mind foggy and a little achy.

He processed that he was alive, and rejoiced a bit at that. He hadn't expected to wake up again.

He tried to open his eyes, and hissed in pain when he managed to; he was blindfolded and the material scraped him instead.

"I see our guest is awake," a voice rumbled.

The blindfold was tugged off to reveal a dinner table, and a huge slab of meat in the center that looked like a pork roast. The inspector was wary, and immediately took stock of himself.

His leg was gone, up to the knee.

Hannibal's sleeves were rolled up, and his suit jacket was draped over the back of a chair. "You're not actually here to eat, Inspector. I hope you're not too disappointed."

His mind was still foggy. He blinked.

The inspector heard Will's belly growl before he saw him.

He was wrapped in a toga, seated at the other end of the table, and nearer the meat than the other two men.

"Will is here to eat. We are here to watch."

'He's eating me,' the inspector thought, helplessly, as Hannibal sliced off a substantial piece and passed the plate to Will.

He ate quickly, but not so quickly as to be considered uncivilized. He made a show of it to Hannibal.

The empty plate was replenished again and again with meat as Will continued to tuck in.

The inspector couldn't see much of Will except his pale shoulders, neck, and head, but his hands left the table to ostensibly massage his stuffed belly.

"You disgust me," the inspector hissed. He knew he would probably be severely punished for that statement, but he was going to die anyway.

Hannibal's eyes flashed again. The inspector felt that he was looking into the face of the Devil.

Lecter pulled on a glove from his pocket, opened the man's mouth forcibly, and seized his tongue.

"Shall I cut it out of his mouth, Love?"

"Don't ruin it. I still plan to eat it."

With a flash of a knife and blinding pain, his tongue was sliced out of his mouth.

Immediately, he was overwhelmed with blood.

He screamed.

Hannibal backhanded him across the face, and disappeared to put the tongue on ice.

Will continued to eat.

The inspector died asphyixating on his own fluids.

"More lean meat than fat, darling, such a shame."

"Don't tell me you didn't make dessert, Hannibal," Will said sharply.

"Hush, my dear Will. You know I did. However, I won't feed it to you unless you've eaten the rest of your meat."

Will turned back to eye the plate of leg. It was mostly finished; his belly was quite a bit distended with the volume, but not yet taut or painful.

He carved what was left off of the tibia, and tucked in again. "You better be ready soon Hannibal, I'm almost done."

Hannibal hummed an aria under his breath as he added some last touches to the dessert.

Most of the time, he made healthy meals with a high amount of calories for Will and something lean for himself, but he thoroughly enjoyed watching Will eat something decadent and sweet. Thus, the dessert for the night was an Italian dessert called Sogno Di Cioccolata.

He returned to the dining room with it, satisfied to see that the tibia was clean.

"Open up, darling."

Such luscious pink lips, plumped up from his distributed reservoirs of fat. Will obeyed.

Bite by bite, Hannibal fed Will the dessert, and his lover grew more stuffed every time.

Will was practically purring at all the flavor. "Mm, I feel like a god."

"Good," said Hannibal, lips close enough to his ear to brush it gently.

Finally the plate was empty, and Hannibal tidied the dining area while Will stretched and massaged his belly.

When he returned, he took Will's hand gently. "May I?"

"I can move, if that's what you mean," Will teased.

Hannibal led him by the hand to the ballroom, daintily, as though the man were a noble lady.

Will could no longer dance like he used to, with his body as it had become, but Hannibal would have it no other way.

His porcelain skin was perfect, his hair getting somewhat long, framing a divine face. Will insisted on keeping his facial hair, but Hannibal groomed it religiously.

All the evidence of Hannibal's kills lay in the fat deposits on his beautiful lover, countless rude men and women had been sacrificed for his ever-expanding waistline.

Dr. Letter secured both his arms around Will's supple waist, delighted at the way his lover's body jiggled ever so slightly beneath his touch.

"Mere men were not meant to view you, mi Amor," Hannibal purred into his ear, seizing a fold of ivory fat in one hand and caressing it with his thumb.

"Oh, you would just love it if I were so fat, I could hardly move. Full to the brim of sinners, fully dependent on you," said Will.

Hannibal's cock jumped at the thought.

"It's a promise."

Will shivered at the growl in his lover's voice, and allowed himself to be turned so Hannibal could take his hands.

They waltzed around the ballroom, Will's bare feet making soft patters as they moved.

"I think we'll have to move again soon, my darling," Hannibal hummed.

"Oh? Any places in mind?" Will said.

As the waltz slowed, not quite to a halt, he leaned in and rested his head in the crook of Hannibal's neck. He could feel Dr. Lecter's achingly hard cock in the softness of his belly.

"I've no particular choices, what do you think?"

"I think you'd kill to have Jack Crawford see who I've become."

If possible, Hannibal's erection felt harder still. "I want you to be perfect when he sees you, mi Amor. As you so eloquently put it, filled to the brim with sinners; however, I would never take away your ability to take care of yourself."

They both knew that meant Hannibal wanted Will to be able to handle himself in close combat or enjoy a murder sometimes.

"Good," Will purred.

<><><>

Jack Crawford hadn't had good sleep in a long time.

Bella's passing had made it difficult to get through the night without her, in their bed they used to share.

Vanished.

Two killers with limitless deadly potential had vanished into thin air.

Well, not exactly, he still got reports on his desk that countries like Norway and Spain had been experiencing a lot of missing persons cases.

Even though these reports came from Europe, Jack Crawford could never seem to fully let his guard down.

He was beginning to be in hot water from unofficially sending a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed do-gooder to their disappearance in Belgium.

All this and more kept him awake at night.

So awake that he should have heard the intrusion in his home, but until Crawford was struck on the back of the head with a blunt object, he didn't know.

<><><>

When he came to, he was tied to a chair at his dining table.

A chill danced down his spine, and he began to sweat nervously, trying to free his legs, his hands, anything.

The hairs on his neck raised when he heard footsteps.

His dining room was completely dark; it had a bay window, but its curtains were closed, the lights off.

His eyes were still adjusting.

"Trouble sleeping?" said a voice. Hannibal.

Jack gritted his teeth. "The usual amount." His head began to throb, belatedly realizing that he had been hit.

"Did you anticipate our return?"

Jack wanted to laugh. "If I had, I wouldn't have been here alone. I would have found someplace else to sleep."

Hannibal hummed at that. "Comfortable?"

"No."

"I'm afraid it'll have to stay uncomfortable, your strength may have waned over time, but I know it hasn't diminished too much. I can't have you breaking free; you have yet to see my finest work."

Again, uneasiness slid through him and thrummed in his veins.

"Your finest work?" He didn't want to ask, but he was at the mercy of a man more like the Devil than a mortal.

"You mistreated him so. He is a creature meant to be pampered, not abused and worn out."

"The encephalitis was on you."

"Indeed it was. I too was foolish about how to handle him, I didn't know what he was, and what he could become."

Crawford was getting really tired of the speech, all the build-up. His nerves had drained him of a lot of his energy, so he looked into the darkness toward Hannibal's voice with weariness. "I've never been a fan of the speeches villains make."

"A little rude, Jack. You don't understand how proud I am."

"And I won't until you show me." Will was dead, he was certain of it. Hannibal had brought Will Graham's corpse into his house, but there was no light to confirm this.

A sliver of moonlight reflected off of maroon irises. "Hm, very well."

He disappeared from the moonlight, and the floorboards creaked a few moments later.

'Must be carrying Will's dead body,' Crawford thought. He braced himself for what he thought was the inevitable impact of Graham's body on his table.

It never happened.

The creaking grew closer, and stopped at the head of the table.

The curtains were thrown open, and it took a moment for Jack's eyes to adjust.

When his vision cleared, he saw Will Graham for the first time in three years, cleaning blood from his mouth with a handkerchief, and he was larger than any other man Crawford was acquainted with.

He was dressed to the nines in a flattering (albeit tight) suit, but it was unbuttoned a little at the top. Of course Hannibal would like it, the fucking freak.

Plump legs, thick thighs, broad hips, love handles, burgeoning breasts, and a new impossibly heavy belly, all straining at the seams. The buttons were stretched so thinly that Crawford could see little slivers of white skin, and his stomach was so large that some of it hung below the hem of the shirt.

Hannibal wanted to purr. He crossed the room, and began to unbutton the rest of the suit jacket and dress shirt.

Crawford looked away.

A few moments later his head was so forcibly jerked aside that his neck cracked and pain rocketed through his joints.

"You're not looking at him, Crawford," Lecter snapped.

Forced to look, he saw how massive Will's belly was, beneath two soft breasts.

It drooped under its own sheer weight, and created veritable rolls that turned into love handles at the sides, and it spilled over the waistband of the pants, the seam biting into the softness of his underbelly. It must have taken special effort even to walk.

His navel was a mere slit that had descended down as his belly had, long gone beneath the gossamer fat that covered his body.

His skin was so deathly pale that he did indeed almost look dead except for the rosy flush on his cheeks, no doubt earned by his weight and exertion.

He walked closer, his belly, breasts, and love handles jiggling with the movement.

Hannibal gripped the back of Crawford's chair so hard the wood creaked.

"Hello, Jack." It was so jarring to hear a voice that used to belong to a scrawny man come from such an immense body.

Hannibal smacked him when he didn't respond.

"Will," he managed.

He was very distracted by Will's formidable belly, so close to him he could almost touch it.

He hated it.

"Do you know why we're here?"

Was he just going to ignore how much space he took up? It offended Crawford. He never thought that plus-sized individuals were disgusting, but most of the fat in Will was due to people who had once been alive, slain for greed and gluttony.

"No."

"Hannibal is here to show off how well he takes care of me." He emphasized this by resting a plump hand on the engorged flesh of his stomach. Even such a small movement sent tremors across the expanse of his great gut.

It made Jack extremely uncomfortable.

"And you're here to kill me and eat me?" Crawford said dryly.

Hannibal slapped him again for that remark, and Crawford growled at Dr. Lecter.

"Yes and no. I heard about the trainee so desperate to prove themselves." Will's eyes flashed, and he no longer reminded Crawford of a pig, but of a boar, like the ones Mason Verger had bred.

"So you killed him."

"Is that what you were wanting to hear? Because we didn't."

Jack stayed quiet, despite the fact that he was very interested to know what had happened to the man.

"They'll find him eventually. Anyway, this little visit is almost over. Hannibal wants me to ruin this suit."

It took a few moments for Crawford to understand, but it dawned on him that he was going to die, and end up inside Will, adding to the enormous stomach and his overall delightful roundness.

They were going to rebutton the suit and dress shirt, and Will would eat his way out of them, buttons flying.

He hoped he wouldn't be there to see it.

The next blow to his head was welcome.

<><><>

When he woke up, his head was foggy and it already throbbed.

It was evening of the next day, it seemed.

Will was seated near Jack, wearing the same suit, buttoned up further this time. Every breath he took made the seams of his clothing groan.

There was meat on the table. He knew it came from him but he was too damn exhausted to find out what it was, and his head was fixed to look up and at Will so he couldn't anyway.

Hannibal returned from the kitchen with plates, a smaller one for himself.

"Tuck in, darling; as much as I loathe the destruction of suits, you have my permission."

Will took a few pieces, somewhat large ones, and began to eat Jack Crawford; such was the great immensity of his stomach that even sitting somewhat far from the table, the edge created a fold that rested atop the wood.

He tilted his head back in pleasure at some point, juice running down his chins that he dabbed up with a napkin. "Oh, it's perfect, Hannibal."

Crawford was forced to watch as Will's unfortunate outfit strained even further around Graham's voluptuous body.

Will made it through one plate without popping the buttons, but the suit was tight enough around him that it breathed with him, almost a second skin.

Around the third bite of the second plate, the button at the crest of his belly tore free and flew into the distance, clattering somewhere in the dining room. A little fold poked through the opening, and the rest of the buttons groaned.

The fifth bite was too much for the two buttons closest to the first, and they too detached and flew, ricocheting off of some distant surface.

Again, the plush weight of his immense belly forced more fat through the gap, further straining the rest of the buttons.

He burped behind a hand, a long one that freed up a good amount of space, rubbed his belly, and continued on.

His shirt could not take anymore, tearing right down the middle, buttons flying. Unencumbered, his tremendous doughy middle surged forward, the hot, thick weight of it spilling over the waistband and resting on his thighs.

Will readjusted to be more upright, entire body wobbling with the movement, waistband cutting deep into his lower belly.

He winced, but didn't move to undo the zipper or button.

"Please, he's done, just kill me or leave," Crawford snapped.

He was looking at Hannibal, but a loud crunch redirected his attention back at Will.

A kitchen knife was stuck in his dining room table, a meaty hand wrapped around it. The way he was leaning forward made his breasts hang a bit over his enormous middle, and Crawford had to look away.

"No, I'm not done," Will said.

Hannibal, however, was loving every minute of it. He crossed the room to Will, and leaned in to whisper something affectionate to him, hand fondly rubbing at his stomach.

"Up," Hannibal ordered, helping Will to his feet, slowly and in increments.

Will finally stood, and Dr. Lecter undid the button and zipper, the fat of Will's underbelly free to push insistently against his knuckles.

With Will's help, they managed to maneuver his pants higher until it was hiked up enough to cover his ample love handles and a greater amount of his stomach.

Then they were zipped and buttoned again, Will having to suck in as much as possible (which admittedly wasn't much).

Then he took a seat again, dropping heavily into the chair. The legs creaked in protest, and Crawford worried for his furniture. He noticed that Will's body overlapped the chair by a lot, thighs and ass far too wide for the dainty little thing.

Hannibal held Crawford's head still and focused on Will as he continued to eat, breath becoming more laborious, his fat belly rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

He had to scoot the chair closer so he could access his plate better, and the fold of belly resumed its perch atop the table.

Perspiration began to build on Will, little dots of sweat on his forehead and rivulets streaming down his engorged body.

His plump cheeks grew pink and almost red with exertion.

He winced as the pants grew tighter around him, tight as a casing around a sausage.

It became unclear as to which would give in first, the zipper, button, or seams.

He paused for a moment to tug the shirt the rest of the way off, flabby arms free.

Eventually Hannibal could hear it: Will's zipper forcing its way down, allowing for more room.

Will kept on, diligently, pausing a couple of times to burp quietly behind a hand.

Then very suddenly, there was a crack, something metal striking his table again, and Will's upper body trembled fiercely.

Will swallowed what was left in his mouth, and stood slowly.

The button had completely come off, and his beautiful, massive, soft, and heavy belly had seized the freedom.

"So greedy," Hannibal purred.

Will smiled at him, and Hannibal forgot about Crawford for a moment, long enough for Jack to headbutt Dr. Lecter.

Maroon eyes flashed in the dark, but Will held up a hand to stop him.

He walked (waddled) closer, until he actually was touching Crawford with that insanely enormous middle, knife he had used on the meat against his former boss's throat.

"I was going to give you some kind of mercy, Jack, and kill you so you wouldn't have to suffer through our victory. I'm afraid that's no longer possible," he said coldly.

They were going to kill him like Mason Verger had promised Hannibal: to keep him alive until the very end, forced to watch Will's becoming.

Crawford tried to bite his own tongue off.

Hannibal knocked him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Lol not me overdoing describing Will's thick ass 400+ lb body. Seriously I didn't understand how weight works before this, most weight gain stories have obesity but don't say it outright
> 
> Anyhoo, smooches, comments fuel my nasty little brain


End file.
